


Sic Semper Ad Astra

by lucernis



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: (almost entirely because of all those goddamn headcanons), (look this may sound joking, Amnesia, Aziraphale and Crowley Met Before The Fall (Good Omens), But only if you really squint, Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Crowley's Fall (Good Omens), M/M, Pre-Fall Crowley (Good Omens), The Archangel Fucking Gabriel (Good Omens) Is An Asshole, Unhappy Ending, and finally there’s a healthy does of canon divergence, and we all know this ends well because it takes place before the original source material so, as well as extremely gratuitous use of headcanons, but i did write this in a way that would be Very Frowned Upon by my Very Christian Family, but only at the end and it’s not really addressed at all, by which i mean this doesn’t end happily but it does allude to a happy ending to come Someday, gratuitous use of flowery language and metaphors, in that sense it could also be classified as a bittersweet ending, like a majority of it is now based on headcanons, no seriously this thing is boiling over with headcanons, so be warned and do with that what you will), there are even headcanons for god!!, which does mean possible blasphemy on the part of the author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23462983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucernis/pseuds/lucernis
Summary: Thus Always To The StarsIn which Crowley falls, but not before leaving behind stars in the sky and love in his angel’s heart.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Sic Semper Ad Astra

**Author's Note:**

> an extraordinarily late gift for a friend, and my first leap into writing something for the good omens fandom (which, fair warning, will not be a common occurrence. at all.)
> 
> if you didn’t read the tags, warnings are: unhappy ending (but it also takes place before the source material so the promise of a happy ending is there), minor amnesia at the end (but it is neither truly addressed nor does it have any lasting impact on the story), potentially upsetting alterations to the way god is normally perceived (aka i mess with religion a bit both so the story can work and for my own sanity), aaand let me know if i missed anything else

Once upon a time, before the Earth with its land, sea, and sky, there were stars. Really, stars came before most things—they were, after all, the creation formed out of the very first elements in existence. They were hydrogen and helium, tied together with trace amounts of carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and iron, reacting to emit an intense heat. If you looked at them from afar though, you’d see only light, pure and brilliant.

This is what Raphael knew stars to be. It wasn’t really that he didn’t care what they were made of (though that was still true), it was more that the elements had yet to be named. For you see, before the stars and the galaxies and before even hydrogen and helium, there were angels who had more important things to do than waste their time coming up with names for the things they created.

Perhaps Raphael should have cared more for the details and names of his creations—names do hold power after all, and this was true even at the beginning of time—but he did have only six days to, with the rest of the angels, aid in the creation of an entire universe. 

So you could say that he was a tad preoccupied. 

In the end though, that didn’t matter. Names would come later: after the stars lit the heavens and the oceans filled with water, after the wind began to whip through the trees and Adam took his first breath. For now, Raphael was content with spinning light into stars and placing those glowing orbs into the emptiness of space.

It was while he was in a galaxy that would later come to be known as Alpha Centauri, flying the final beam of light around a star that Raphael first met Aziraphale. The other angel had somehow made his way into space and was now hovering a few feet away from Raphael and his star, gravity be damned (gravity hadn’t been named yet either, though it did exist—even, for the time being, in space). In all likeliness, Raphael wouldn’t have noticed Aziraphale for hours more if the angel hadn’t called out a chipper, “Hello! What might you be doing all the way out here?”

Raphael’s head whipped towards the voice, the star going temporarily ignored. He blinked at the new arrival, startled. Scientifically speaking, Aziraphale’s voice shouldn’t have reached Raphael. Space is a vacuum, and as such, sound isn’t able to travel in it. But angels aren’t exactly scientifically viable themselves, so rules don’t apply to them in quite the same way (if they ever did at all). That wasn’t the reason Raphael was so startled, though. Actually, he didn’t know that sound wasn’t supposed to travel in space in the first place. No, the reason Aziraphale had startled him was far more simple: Raphael was supposed to be alone out here. As far as he knew, he was the only one who was allowed to be out in space, forming stars or otherwise. He’d been just about to say so when he looked at Aziraphale—really looked at him.

Contrary to popular belief among some Christians, homosexuality has never been frowned upon by God. In fact, She has always considered it to be just as natural and beautiful as the love between a man and a woman. This may not seem relevant, but when Raphael saw Aziraphale floating in space, soft hair forming a halo around his head and backed by a void dotted with glittering lights that he’d placed there himself, it suddenly became so. 

(Neither love nor attraction had been coined as such yet—only partially due to the fact that neither had been felt in the three prior days of the universe’s existence—but Raphael understood that he did feel something distinctly homosexual stirring as he watched this newcomer sit serenely in midair.)

Raphael had to fight to keep his jaw from going entirely slack as he stared at the angel for just a moment longer. Clearing his throat, he attempted to regain some semblance of dignity as he said, “I could ask you the same thing. _I_ am supposed to be out here, but I sincerely doubt you are.”

“Well,” Aziraphale began, oblivious to Raphael’s slight (slight meaning _very obvious_ to anyone that wasn’t Aziraphale) gay panic, “I’m not supposed to be anything yet, I don’t think. I’m a principality, you see, and with no humans having been formed for me to protect… I don’t believe I’m _supposed_ to be anywhere.”

“Oh,” Raphael said, having only half-listened to Aziraphale’s explanation but having fully decided that gravity was completely unnecessary in space if ethereally floating angels were going to exist without it before waving it away. “You know, I really don’t think—”

“Ah! Where are my manners,” Aziraphale said, having known about manners for a few hours now (though he’d forgotten what they had said concerning interruptions), “I haven’t introduced myself!”

“You also didn’t let me finish what I was going to say, but—”

“Oh dear, that’s a part of ‘manners’ too, isn’t it?”

Raphael merely nodded, deciding not to point out that the angel had interrupted him again. It was best not to upset such a magnificent being, in Raphael’s opinion.

“I apologize, my dear.” (Pet names weren’t an official creation yet, but that didn’t stop them from causing the person on the receiving end of them to become hopelessly flustered.) “Now, let me try that again. My name is Aziraphale, and what should I call you?”

“Raphael,” Raphael said, pretending he hadn’t been affected by the pet name that had so clearly affected him (the term “blush” hadn’t been coined yet, but that’s what Raphael was doing, and it was painfully obvious to—yet again—everyone but Aziraphale).

“Well then, Raphael, what _are_ you doing out here?”

“Right!” Raphael said, snapping himself out of whatever trance-like state seeing Aziraphale had put him in. “I’m an archangel, you see, and I’m the one who God tasked with creating the stars.”

“What are stars?” Aziraphale asked, cocking his head to one side as he floated ever nearer.

“Stars,” Raphael said, “ _Stars_ are these things.” He gestured towards the glowing sphere he’d abandoned a few moments ago before motioning for Aziraphale to come slightly closer. “They’re made of light and space stuff, see?”

“Mm,” Aziraphale hummed, unfurling his wings for the first time since Raphael had seen him in order to examine the star more closely. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Raphael preened ever-so-slightly at the praise, a small smile gracing his face as he watched the angel continue to flit about.

“I do have a question about it though.”

“Oh?” Raphael frowned slightly, having not been expecting questions about his creation.

“What purpose does it serve? The star that’s closest to the human’s planet—”

“That would be the sun, and the planet’s Earth,” Raphael supplied, turning Aziraphale’s interruptions back onto him (this odd sort of justice still didn’t equate to good manners).

“Yes, the sun,” Aziraphale agreed. “The sun’s purpose is to sustain life on Earth, and Earth is the only planet God is putting life on, is it not?”

Raphael nodded, still unsure where Aziraphale was going with this.

“Well, if that’s the case, then why are stars needed out here? If they aren’t needed to sustain life, then why did She send you to create them?”

Raphael blinked. He hadn’t thought about this before. He’d been told to create more stars, and so he had. What did it matter if he wasn’t aware of their purpose? So Raphael merely shrugged, saying, “I assumed they were to encourage the spread of life to other planets, but I never really thought to question it. Why do you ask?”

“I think that everything we’ve been told to create is here for a reason, don’t you? It just seems odd to me that this would be an exception.”

“I guess,” Raphael agreed tentatively. “What are you getting at?”

“Well,” Aziraphale said, drawing out the word, “what if the stars weren’t an exception? What if their purpose is to be beautiful? What if they exist as a sort of beacon of hope for humanity, as a source of light even when their planet is cloaked in darkness? Think about it, Raphael. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? For there to be something with no purpose, just to give hope to humans in times where things seemed darkest? To give them light without pretense? Wouldn’t it be wonderful of the Almighty to do that for the humans? Don’t you think it’s just _magnificent_ that She sent you to create something that’s sole purpose is to give hope?”

This time, Raphael’s jaw drops (he closes it again quickly, but it had dropped all the same). He never would have imagined the Almighty creating something purely to provide hope and beauty. Aziraphale was truly flipping his entire world upside down, but Raphael didn’t think he minded all that much. The way the other angel seemed to think about things held just as much beauty as the stars he claimed to be the epitome of it, and it all made Raphael want to know _more_ about him.

Aziraphale was still watching him expectantly though, so Raphael nodded quickly. “I— yes. Yes, I do think it’s rather… _magnificent,_ as you put it.”

The angel’s answering smile shone brighter than any star Crowley had ever created. “Oh, this is simply incredible. I’m so glad to have met you and your stars, my dear.”

“No,” Raphael frowned, waving the sentiment away. “You’re giving me too much credit. It’s you I should be thanking, really. You were the one who showed me the beauty in all of this, after all.”

“I suppose so. Even still, it is you _creating_ that beauty, is it not? Without you, I wouldn’t have discovered the magic in this universe.” Aziraphale’s smile grew. “I’d say that makes us a pretty good team now, doesn’t it?”

“Uh. Ngk,” Raphael responded eloquently. “I guess so?”

Aziraphale let out a laugh like a silver bell. 

When it became clear the other angel was content to simply watch him and wasn’t going to add anything else to the conversation at the moment, Raphael said reluctantly, “I think you should head back to Earth soon. I don’t want you to get in trouble somehow for being out here.”

“Is this your way of asking me to leave?”

Aziraphale’s tone had been teasing, but Raphael’s eyes went wide in horror at his own words anyway. “No! No, absolutely not. I truly have enjoyed your company, Aziraphale. I just don’t think _anyone_ is really supposed to be out here. From what I hear, this place—space, I believe it’s called—is going to be deadly to humans. Angels too, most likely. I don’t want you to be hurt because I kept you here.”

“Are you trying to save me then? Oh, Raphael, that’s so kind of you!”

“I. Uh. Yes, thank you. I do my best.” Raphael told himself his face was not turning a brilliant shade of red, though that was an abject lie. Were it not for the cold vacuum of outer space, his face would very likely appear to be lit with real tongues of fire. “I can take you back, if you’d like,” Raphael heard himself offer. “I just have to finish lighting this star, and we can go back together.” Raphael paused, gathering light in his hands once more and, not wanting to sound _too_ desperate to spend more time with Aziraphale, added, “So you don’t get lost, of course. That’s all.” The reassurance was far more for Raphael’s benefit than the other angel’s.

“I suppose I can wait, in that case. I’ve never watched a star being created before, I don’t think I’ll mind sticking around a little while longer.” Aziraphale turned an impossibly soft smile onto Raphael, who looked very deliberately in the opposite direction and didn’t answer.

Despite his attempt at stoicism, Raphael found a fond smile creeping across his own face as well. That smile stayed stubbornly in place as he sprinkled a handful of stardust over the galaxy, bringing the creation of Alpha Centauri to completion. And though he tried to stifle it, Raphael’s smile remained persistent even after he and Aziraphale returned to Earth.

With the memory of the angel who’d asked questions as pretty as he was etched into his heart, Raphael’s smile wouldn’t fade for a very long time indeed.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was an archangel who brought the cosmos into being and once upon a time, there was a principality who became fascinated with him. The principality’s name was Aziraphale, and he most certainly had not been created to obsess over questions he was never supposed to have asked and angels he had never been supposed to meet, but obsess he did.

Since the universe had been created a few days before, Aziraphale’s curious mind had been constantly occupied with questions about it (angels hadn’t been created to be curious or to question the Almighty, but Aziraphale had never matched the idea of what angels were supposed to be). He wanted to know about the stars and the moon, the sun and the sky. He picked flowers if they caught his eye, and he asked questions about them as he breathed in their sweet perfume. Aziraphale gazed into the depths of the ocean, and he found that he wanted to learn about each wave that crashed to the shore, each creature that swam in its depths, and each drop of water that made it up. 

But most importantly, he wanted to know _why._ _Why_ were the stars and the moon only visible during the night when they were some of the most beautiful things in the world? _Why_ did the sun—something that was created with the purpose to give life to all those who lived beneath its rays—have the potential to be so deadly? _Why_ was the sky blue, _why_ did roses have thorns, _why_ did waves crash into the shore, and _why_ was it all so beautiful? 

(Aziraphale had his assumptions, naturally, but that could never and would never beat truly knowing.)

In any case though, his questions didn’t matter. It wasn’t as though they would be frowned upon, and it couldn’t be so bad that he wanted to know things. The pursuit of knowledge could hardly be considered _evil._

(Right?)

(Wrong.)

Aziraphale, though, had no way of knowing either way. For you see, asking questions _shouldn’t_ be considered evil. It wouldn’t be as time went on, but it was at the beginning. The Almighty would grow out of Her insecurities, and questions would become welcome once more. All beings are flawed, after all, and God Herself is no exception. The only difference between Her and us is that She was endowed with divine grace—that, and a great deal more time.

But this is getting far, far ahead of the story and is beside the point even if it weren’t. The Almighty doesn’t come to fully understand Her powers until much too late, for you can’t exactly _raise_ an angel. Again, though: beside the point. This is not God’s story, so all you need to know is that questioning anything the Almighty did was, in the beginning, considered evil.

Aziraphale didn’t ask the _‘why’_ of those most important questions, though. He never would have imagined that his very nature could have been considered twisted and wrong, so he’d never thought to dwell on the idea.

(Perhaps he should have.)

Even when he heard word of angels falling, Aziraphale didn’t think to question his own perceived ‘goodness.’

(Perhaps there are a lot of things that he should have done.)

It was only while he was being ushered along with the rest of the angels towards God only knew where to watch the spectacle of a lifetime that Aziraphale began to ask the right questions. 

“Has anyone seen Raphael?” he asked someone walking beside him. They shrugged in reply, and a feeling of unease bloomed in Aziraphale’s chest.

“Do you know where Raphael is?” he said to another angel a few moments later. They shook their head, seeming not to know the answer either, and Aziraphale’s heart began to pound.

He wasn’t sure why he’d suddenly grown so nervous about his friend’s well-being. It wasn’t as though Raphael had ever done anything wrong. He was an angel in every sense of the word, and yet Aziraphale still felt his breaths growing more shallow by the second.

Just before his part of the crowd was about to enter what could only be called an arena, Aziraphale found a face he recognized at long last. It was not Raphael, but perhaps Gabriel would know more than Aziraphale did. 

“Gabriel, you don’t happen to know where Raphael is, do you? It’s silly, but I can’t seem to find him and my chest has begun to seize up, which I can assure you is not a particularly pleasant feeling.”

“Aziraphale! Oh, it’s good to see you.” Gabriel’s height caused him to look down upon Aziraphale to talk to him, and that did nothing to ease his nerves. Still, he allowed Gabriel to continue. “Hadn’t you heard, though? Raphael is one of the angels who’s going to fall.”

“What?” Aziraphale let out a tiny laugh through which doubt ran so deep that could almost be considered a scoff. “Why would _he_ fall?”

Gabriel shrugged. “I’m not privy to that sort of information, I’m afraid.” Aziraphale frowned. He wasn’t sure if angels could sense lies, but what Gabriel had said certainly sounded like one. 

Perhaps it was because of this frown that Gabriel added, “And even if I _did_ know, it’s not like I’d be allowed to tell you.” He laughed good-naturedly, though it held no mirth. “I guess we’ll never know some things, hm?”

“Right,” Aziraphale said, unconvinced.

“Well,” Gabriel concluded, clapping Aziraphale on the shoulders, “we should both head inside now, don’t you think?”

Aziraphale nodded, at a loss for words. For an angel so clever and with an endless stream of questions, having his words seemingly ripped from him was jarring. He shot Gabriel a smile to appease him, then entered the arena-like structure.

Still following the crowd, Aziraphale found himself being herded into a row comprised solely of stone benches a few feet from the ground. He sat, smoothing his robes in an effort to maintain some semblance of control over the situation he was in.

Heartbreak is one of the most painful things a human being can experience. It feels like fire ripping through you, like the most painful of burns scorching you from the inside out, like anger, like tearing, like blazing, searing heat. 

Or it feels like ice covering every inch of you, like a numbness you can’t possibly explain, like pain, like breaking, like overwhelming, crushing cold.

Or it feels like a light going out or the shattering of glass or the last note of a song or like drowning beneath the waves of a storm-ravaged sea or the final word of a story you never wanted to end or like a black hole that steals all things good from the world.

And sometimes, it feels like nothing at all.

As of the day Raphael and the other angels fell, heartbreak hadn’t yet been invented, nor had it been experienced by any of God’s creations. 

(They were lucky, in those days. Impossibly lucky.)

Though he wasn’t aware of what it was or understand what he was feeling, Aziraphale would be the very first of God’s creations to have his heart broken.

For him, it would feel like nothing a human could possibly comprehend. Angels feel so much more intensely than humans, so it would only follow that their broken hearts feel that much more like the end of the world. There’s no way the pain of it could ever be adequately described, but if you must imagine something, imagine having everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more (infinite love and happiness, sunlit days and moonlit nights, breezes and clouds whenever you wanted, dramatic reunions on rain-soaked streets, winters full of soft, fluffy snow that makes the world feel just a shade brighter, endless praise and fame and money and success (or if you’d prefer, a tight-knit family and the most wonderful friends you could ever wish for and comfort and warmth): all yours because you made it so) then imagine it was all physically ripped away from you in the same brutal way a heart would be ripped from a chest.

It feels exactly like that, only thousands of millions of times worse.

(Needless to say, Aziraphale was in for a treat.)

As he sat waiting for something—anything—to happen, Aziraphale fell back into his pool of questions. _Why_ was Raphael going to fall? _Why_ were _any_ of the angels going to? God made both angels and humans in Her image, so _why_ were they imperfect? _Why_ was the world so cruel and unfair to someone Aziraphale cared for, _why, why, why?_

He didn’t know any of the answers, and worse, he didn’t know where to find them either.

He didn’t know _why_ it was that when he spotted Raphael in the line of angels about to fall his heart leapt and his chest filled to the bursting with confetti butterflies, he didn’t know _why_ his face felt warm when the soon-to-be-fallen angel flashed a smile at him. Aziraphale couldn’t seem to figure out _why_ he was filled with so much grief on Raphael’s behalf and he couldn’t fathom _why_ it was that he troubled himself so with the fate of an angel that he’d met only once (love works in strange ways among angels, but Aziraphale wouldn’t discover that until a certain someone’s little miracle involving a church, a bomb, and a bag of books caused him to finally look at him in the same way he had all those centuries ago).

No matter the answers to these questions though, Aziraphale still kept his eyes trained on Raphael, searching for any sort of clue written in the contours of his face. Raphael, in turn, switched his focus from the whispers of an angel next to him to answering Aziraphale’s questioning gaze. 

Aziraphale was certain the dramatic movements of Raphael’s eyebrows were trying to convey some sort of message, but it was completely lost in translation. Seeming to realize this, Raphael merely shook his head, a soft smile lighting his face. He didn’t speak—Aziraphale wasn’t far from the ground, sure, but the arena was still far too large and full of far too much chatter for him to be able to properly hear anything—but Raphael seemed to be trying to say _some_ thing _some_ how (this was the first instance lip reading had to be employed, and while Aziraphale didn’t know the name for it, he was fortunate enough to be rather skilled in the practice nonetheless) and as though through magic, Aziraphale could tell what it was.

Raphael’s message wasn’t a long one (a long message would have been virtually impossible to translate, this being the very first use of lip reading and all), but it was filled with more gravitas in it than a few words had any right to be.

“We will meet again,” Raphael mouthed. “Someday, we will. I promise.” He then appeared to form words that looked to Aziraphale like “I love you,” but he didn’t think that was right and chose to disregard it. The first bit was a heavy enough weight for him to bear. 

Raphael whispered that same phrase—the one that looked like “I love you”—again before the ground dropped from beneath him without warning, preamble, or fanfare.

Aziraphale’s mouth fell open in a silent scream.

Then his eyes closed, and his memories faded into nothing.

(He was fine, of course. Aziraphale would wake up in a few minutes and be told he had been created to replace an angel that had recently fallen. He would believe this lie, because why would he not?)

* * *

Raphael had promised they would meet again (which was a promise he would make good on, and not only because angels simply don’t lie), but that wouldn’t be for a long, long while (the universe had only existed for a handful of days at that point though, so time was still very subjective and a long, long while may not seem long at all in hindsight). Aziraphale, however, wouldn’t remember that he _knew_ Raphael for even longer still, and he wouldn’t find out the true reason Raphael fell for eons upon eons more—it wouldn’t be until after Armageddon (the first one, at least) that he learned the truth. He would learn, though. That much had always been written in the stars. 

But, long, long before Aziraphale and Raphael would meet again though, even longer still before Aziraphale remembered that he _knew_ Raphael, and eons upon eons more before Aziraphale learned the whole truth, there was a conversation.

“You sent for me?”

“Ah, yes, Raphael. Please, have a seat. There’s something I feel we, as archangels, should discuss.”

“What is it?”

“You look concerned, my friend, but there is no need to be. I assure you, everything is well. Or, at least, it will be.”

“That sounds awfully ominous.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean for it to. Neither of us will be affected by this, of course, so there’s no reason at all you should be worried.”

“I’m sure there’s no need for such theatrics, Gabriel. Just tell me why you wanted to see me.”

“Ah, of course. I’m sure you’ve heard word of what Lucifer has been saying, right?”

“About how he believes that he’s more worthy of ruling over the universe than—”

“Yes, about how he believes that he’s more worthy of ruling over the universe than the Almighty. Well, in any case, She is planning on doing something about that.”

… 

“…Are you going to _tell_ me what She’s going to do or are you expecting me to make a guess?”

“No need to be snippy, Raphael. I’ll tell you.”

“Well, go on then.”

“Don’t _rush me,_ Raphael. The pause is for _dramatic effect_ because what She’s _planning to do_ is _quite_ dramatic. And before you say anything, _yes,_ I’m _getting there._ ”

… 

“…Are y—”

“So the Almighty! Has let slip that Lucifer might not be… _around here_ much longer.”

“…And that means?”

“You’ve heard of Hell, right?”

“You mean the place deep within the Earth that the Almighty created as a—”

“Yes, the place deep within the Earth that the Almighty created as a direct opposite to Heaven.”

“I’ve heard of the place, yeah. What about it?”

“Well supposedly, from what I’ve heard, that’s where Lucifer is going to be sent. He’ll be cast out of Heaven, disgraced, dishonored, and with a name so besmirched he will never bother us again!”

“Huh.”

“And a few other angels will be sent with him, of course. Others that he’s drawn to his cause, those that have questioned Her too much, or were too prideful, or lusted for more power, you know.”

“I’m sorry, what was that middle one?”

“Being too prideful? You know, like—”

“I _know_ what being too prideful is, Gabriel. I meant the other middle one.”

“Oh, yeah. There have been a few angels that questioned Her actions too much, like Azazel, Aziraphale—”

“ _Aziraphale?_ You can’t mean— Is _he_ meant to be cast out with Lucifer and the others?”

“Yes, he is. Is that a problem?”

“I— no, not really, it’s just…”

“I’d choose your next words _very carefully_ if I were you.”

“…Yeah, so it’s just that Aziraphale hasn’t questioned Her actions _nearly_ as much as _I_ have. Are you _sure_ he’s meant to fall?”

“Hm, falling, I like that. We should use that instead of ‘cast out.’ Sounds a bit pretentious, if you ask me.”

“You’ve just completely missed the point.”

“Right. Well, if he’s supposed to fall, then, yes, I’d assume you are too.”

“You know, that’s not _actually_ what I—”

“Huh. I thought you were better than this, Raphael.”

“Hang on, Gabriel, I—”

“I’ll have to arrange this with the Almighty, of course—”

“Gabriel—”

“—she’ll have to be alerted of this new development, and who better to alert her than m—”

“Wait!”

“Hm?”

“It… it’s, uh, completely my fault that Aziraphale asked questions in the first place. If I hadn’t met him, he wouldn’t have questioned anything.”

“So… what are you saying, Raphael?”

“I’m _saying_ that if _I_ fall, Aziraphale shouldn’t have to. With me out of the picture, he won’t question the Almighty anymore. _He_ shouldn’t fall, _I_ should.”

“I… huh. That makes sense, doesn’t it? His memory of you will have to be erased though, of course, so your influence is no longer hanging ove—”

“Yes, yeah, that’s fine. Was that all?”

“You know, I’m very disappointed in you, Raphael. You’re an archangel, you should be better than this. No angel should question the almighty, obviously, but—”

“Wonderful, I’ll be on my way then. Nice chat we’ve had.”

“Tsk, tsk. With the amount of disrespect for authority you show, I’m surprised I didn’t realize you didn’t belong here _way_ earlier. Honestly, I should have known the whole Aziraphale debacle was your fault. He always was such a good angel.”

“Mhm. How ignorant of you.”

“I wish I could say I’ll miss you, but I’m afraid I’ll never miss a disgrace such as yourself.”

“Mhm. Yes, how could I have betrayed you like that.”

“Right? It’s positively despicable.”

“Mhm. Well, I’d better be off then. Nice knowing you, Gabriel.”

“I can’t say the same. Good talk, though.”

“The best.”

It was a conversation full of lies and other assorted deception, but a conversation that sealed the fates of both Raphael and Aziraphale nonetheless. It was a conversation that saved one angel and doomed another, but it was a conversation that Raphael would never regret having.

* * *

As Raphael fell, he turned his gaze skyward, towards the stars he’d played a role in creating mere days earlier. He reached a hand towards them unconsciously, grasping for a world he no longer belonged to. 

In later years, he would claim that he hadn’t fallen, not really, but instead had sauntered vaguely downwards. This was, of course, untrue. Raphael had fallen the same way all the other angels had: in a rush of blinding pain and eyes squeezed shut, face turned towards the last glimpse of Heaven they’d ever see. If you looked at it through that lens, Raphael was far from special.

It was, however, true that Raphael had _metaphorically_ sauntered vaguely downwards. He didn’t fall in the same way the other angels had in that his fall had a certain sense of grace to it. He’d sauntered vaguely downwards in the sense that he’d left Heaven with a smirk in place up until the moment the ground dropped out from beneath him, and he’d sauntered in the fact that he remained confident in his choice to fall even as he took his very last angelic breath. 

Sauntering vaguely downwards implies a sort of confidence in oneself, in one’s choices. Raphael had that in _spades._ For as long as his consciousness remained trapped in existence, Raphael would not wish—not even _once_ —that he hadn’t chosen to fall in his angel’s place. 

So in that sense, perhaps it _was_ true that Raphael had not so much fallen as sauntered vaguely downwards. 

And perhaps one day, when Raphael was no longer Raphael but Crowley instead, his angel would look up at the stars and remember the now-demon who had created them before falling in his place. Perhaps Aziraphale would remember too the love that had begun to grow between them, and perhaps he would understand why Crowley had made his sacrifice.

But that day was not the one Aziraphale was living because, as far as he knew, Raphael—or, as he was now known, Crowley—had never existed _at all._ All Aziraphale remembered of him was held in the stars Crowley had created once upon a time and in the way those stars lit up tears that fell from the angel’s eyes for reasons he couldn’t fathom.

**Author's Note:**

> comments are my life source, but you can also yell at me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/ratherstareyed) or [tumblr](https://ratherstarryeyed.tumblr.com/)
> 
> and! the tumblr post is [here](https://ratherstarryeyed.tumblr.com/post/614401634303442944/sic-semper-ad-astra) if you feel so inclined to reblog it


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